Trouble on the Horizon
by borgprincess
Summary: ...watching him squirm had just become her new favourite past time, something she intended to indulge in with regularity...House is in trouble again, but Cuddy isn't as inclined to forgive and forget as usual. NEW CHAPTER!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

**Trouble on the Horizon**

"Uh-oh, looks like I'm about to be busted," a voice drawled sardonically, its owner listening intently to the sound of heels clicking down the hallway. "Shh," the man commanded his youthful companion. "Maybe if we keep silent, she won't be able to-"

The footsteps slowed, then stopped completely- coincidentally, right in front of their hiding place. Man and child exchanged calculating glances and tried to breathe silently. Perhaps they would have escaped detection, had the batteries not suddenly failed in the portable game the boy carried and the paused image on the screen flickered, then faded out completely.

"Aw, man!" the young boy exclaimed, slapping a hand to his forehead in a pained manner. "I was so close…"

Gregory House sighed, looking up just as the door opened sharply to reveal the hospital's very own Dean of Medicine. "Uh-uh," he hushed the woman before she could speak. "We need to observe a minute of silence…we were on the verge of a historic moment; the kid was actually mere seconds away from overcoming every last obstacle on the final level of-"

"I do feel terrible for interfering with the progress of your childish pursuit," Lisa Cuddy interrupted his dissembling with an icy tone.

"You feel-? Oh, no, no, no," he waved away her comment. "Your arrival had nothing to do with this unfortunate loss. Batteries needed replacing. Thought they would have lasted longer, but we have been playing for-" House made the pretence of considering the detail, before simply shrugging, "a while. And how has _your_ day been?"

"Don't ask me that in front of a child," Cuddy snapped, her dark curls practically quivering with suppressed anger. "Jason, follow me," she addressed the chubby cheeked, redheaded boy who was pretending not to be inhabiting the same room as the object of her ire. "Your mother's been worried sick about you."

Jason Beckworth sighed heavily, but held his tongue, sensing tension in the air. With the canny manner of children who do not wish to draw unwanted attention to themselves, he melted into the background, an unobtrusive figure watching the interplay between the feuding adults with interest.

House was under no similar constraints to refrain from critical comments. With a groan, the gaunt faced doctor rose to his feet, stamping his cane for extra emphasis as he drawled, "Don't tell me the mother's kicking up a fuss."

"What do you expect?" Cuddy rounded on the other doctor. "You disappear with her child for over two hours, no one knows where he's been taken, your pages go unanswered- of course she's frantic with worry over his safety!"

"I was trying to be thorough in dealing with her concern," House returned. "She had this hysterical belief that her twin boys, of which Jason here is one half, are experiencing some sort of eerie twin bond where they have a connection that transcends mere physical boundaries. My _experiment_, if you will, required that they be separated so that the other boy could utilize this link between them to locate his twin. Since over two hours, as you say, have elapsed, I can safely conclude that no such mysterious, paranormal bond exists between the two boys and the mother can now sleep peacefully at night. Case solved. Don't I earn brownie points for that?"

House waited with anticipation for his boss's rejoinder, but she only regarded him coldly for a moment or two. The silence began to grow uncomfortable but before he formulated an appropriately sarcastic response of some sort, Cuddy simply turned on her heel and stalked down the corridor, boy in tow. Left behind, he could only stare after her shapely posterior with confusion.

_This isn't the way it's supposed to work._

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

**A/N:** I get annoyed sometimes at how shabbily House treats Cuddy- you could say her rant takes its cue from my own…

**Trouble on the Horizon**

_This isn't the way it's supposed to work._

Lisa Cuddy had returned to the sanctuary of her office, desperately needing the refuge it offered, to soak in the sumptuousness of her surroundings in the hopes it could allay her state of discomposure. Occupying the prestigious position Dean of Medicine required the trappings of luxury to suit, and she had never been accused of being backwards in fulfilling any obligation. However, her mood could not be lifted, despite the opportunity to relax and consider her good fortune in attaining such laudable success this early in life. The problem was, with Gregory House persistently burrowing his way under her skin, it was difficult to see her way clearly through to any 'good fortune' in her life.

With that dismal thought in mind, Cuddy sighed and loosened the rigid bun she had bound her dark curls into that day, a belated attempt to ward off the headache that had been threatening all week and had chosen this opportune moment to reassert its presence. Swivelling her chair around to gaze unseeingly out the shuttered window, revealing soothing hints of green from the foliage outside, Cuddy focused on what was truly bothering her. It was the complete and utter lack of respect House exhibited towards her. Not that there was actual antipathy or any hostile emotions between them, but it was an indifference that crossed over into unrepenting insubordination. He refused to comply with the most basic orders, wilfully sought ways to avoid fulfilling his obligations, took any and all means necessary to elude clinic duty, defied the terms of his contract…and undermined her authority as his superior.

Thinking back to the fiasco with Vogler, Cuddy pressed her fingers against her forehead in a futile attempt to alleviate the throbbing of her head. Vogler, the ill-fated and short-lasting chairman of the board, had drawn their problems to the surface of her mind, pointing out all the small ways in which House rebelled against her authority and how his behaviour reflected badly on her. He was acting according to his nature- what was her excuse for condoning it? Once she had truly seen the nature of the crisis in their professional relationship, events in the intervening period had only increased the severity of her discomfort. There had been times that she quite enjoyed the banter with House, revelling in the battle of the minds with the sharp-tongued, quick-witted doctor, now there were more occasions where she was at a complete loss. The frustration persistently gnawed at her, even transforming into resentment during weaker moments. _Why?_ Cuddy asked herself. _Why couldn't he conform? Why did he have to provoke conflict?_

Couldn't he just for once, for her sake if not his own, just follow the rules and save them all the trouble? It was not too much to ask. Certainly if any other doctor had attempted to emulate his manner and conduct, she would swiftly descend upon them to deliver a deluge of reprimands and warnings to either shape up or ship out. But House was…

_Different_, she acknowledged. _Accustomed to special treatment, he takes it as his due. But is he worth it?_

Once the question would never have even occurred to her. Cuddy had subconsciously blocked herself from viewing how preferential her treatment of House had become, how much he took from her when she could not afford to give it, playing fast and loose with the rules even as she desperately attempted to maintain order in a hopelessly fractured hierarchy. She was meant to be his boss. Yet what Vogler had impressed on her, if nothing else, was how futile her hopes of ever establishing herself in that position truly were.

And it scared her that she had allowed matters to deteriorate to this state. It was inconceivable that the dedicated professional she had shaped herself into could have failed on the most rudimentary of tests, to become an entity both respected and held in awe by her staff. Without this foundation to build upon, the end result was- mayhem. And now she had to deal with this whole mess.

"Paging Doctor Cuddy," the bane of her life limped briskly into her office. "I believe you have an operation scheduled? For a…" House made the pretense of consulting non-existent medical notes, "Humor transplant, that's it. Definitely long overdue, I can vouch for that."

"Have you ever considered that it's not the lack of appreciative response to your so-called 'humor' that's the problem, but that there is no humor to respond to in the first place?" she fired back.

It was depressing to see how quickly she had fallen back into their old pattern of give-and-take, trading insults back and forth to score unofficial victories, depending on who had the last word. _Be professional, woman_, she told herself. But how could she overcome the habits of a lifetime? As Cuddy despaired over this question, the pounding in her head increased in tempo.

"Well, my stock response would be 'uh, no'…" House said in a reflective tone, twirling his stick as he idly leant against her desk. "At least until I figure out what that dreadfully convoluted retort was meant to imply."

"The problem is you, House," she told him succinctly. Cuddy had taken enough from this man, and she wasn't going to stand for it any more. "You, your attitude, your constant jibes about my ethics, my morality and my _figure_. You took an oath, you signed a contract, but you wilfully break both whenever it suits you- which amounts to pretty much the whole damn time you're in my hospital!" her tone was steadily increasing in ferocity as all her latent anger finally found its outlet. "You shirk your share of the work, you're not a team-player, everything just has to revolve around you! What kind of God complex must you suffer from, to be so narcissistic and self-absorbed, to think you have the right to make up your own rules as you go along while everyone else is doing their best to accomplish their part?"

"I've heard drug addiction can cause severe personality changes," he volunteered.

The insouciance of his delivery was another hit to her already wounded self-image. House wouldn't even _pretend_ to take her outburst seriously. She surged to her feet, prepared to finally let loose and hurl a blistering reprimand squarely into that smug, self-satisfied face- only to stagger as the full force of the long repressed headache finally hit her. Cuddy clutched at her desk, attempting to regain her balance, but oddly enough, her surroundings were melting, objects no longer distinct from one another as they shifted and merged- or was that merely her vision blurring? _You're the doctor_, she thought hazily, but before the part of her that was the trained professional could hazard a guess, unconsciousness claimed her and she lost the battle.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

**Trouble on the Horizon**

It had been a near miss, and he did not enjoy having his reflexes tested in that manner. Only being a glutton for punishment had sent House lunging forward to wrap an arm around Cuddy's falling form, even as his leg protested the sudden abuse. Still, he had restrained the woman from a nasty fall, carefully lowering her to the ground as he wondered how long it would take her to recover. The answer was apparent only a few minutes later, as her eyelids flickered before slowly opening with cloudy uncertainty.

Finding herself lying prone on the floor was a surprise. Cuddy gazed up at the ceiling as she tried to recall what had brought her to this point, unaware of the other presence in her office training sharp blue eyes on her that narrowed in unspoken worry.

"If you wanted to get my attention, all you had to do was toy with the sole remaining button on that dangerously low neckline," House's familiar voice drawled. "Throwing yourself at my feet was a little desperate, don't you think?"

She looked towards the direction of the voice, locating House sitting in her chair, chin propped on his cane. "Such a gentleman, taking the chair and leaving the lady to the floor."

"I strained my leg in my noble attempt to catch the damsel in distress as she prettily fainted," he faked a whine to cover any lingering concern over her sudden collapse.

"House-" About to open her mouth to declare that she didn't faint, prettily or otherwise, Cuddy thought back to the last moments that she could recall and reluctantly concurred that her symptoms probably did indicate House's verdict. Changing tacks, she continued, "I'm astounded at yet another brilliant analysis from the head of Diagnostics. _Now_ it's clear why I keep you around." She carefully assessed the strength in her legs she risked standing up again.

"If you're impressed by that, wait til I enlighten you on my theory that it was my incredibly handsome and virile appearance that caused you to _faint_." He relished the emphasis on the last word, rubbing in her appearance of weakness. Far be it from him to betray anxiety over her unexpected display of fragility- _that_ was a characteristic that better related to Cameron, whose mere appearance engendered descriptions along the lines of 'fragile', 'delicate', 'sensitive' and 'vulnerable'. House had never once ascribed those terms to the fiery, strong-willed Dean of Medicine, and he wasn't about to start now.

Cuddy pulled herself to her feet, relieved at being able to level out of playing field. Being loomed over by the diagnostician was not especially appealing. "Typical House. A woman collapses and all he can think about is that it must have been due to his irresistible charm and charismatic appeal. There could have been no sound medical basis for such an event, could there?" she enquired sarcastically. "And while you're here, why don't you use a tiny fraction of the many hours of clinic duty to give me a proper diagnosis? Just to practice, it's been a while for you."

"And in return, I get…?" he trailed off, before continuing smoothly, "Nothing, but the satisfaction of a job well done. For you, my dear doctor Cuddy, the service is free. Too little sleep, not enough food, migraine…rest and drink plenty of fluids, that's my professional opinion. Try and avoid stress at work…" a wicked gleam lit his eye, before he went on even more outrageously, "Now I must congratulate you, this scheme was ingenious. Cameron would never have thought of faking illness to attract my medical notice."

She rolled her eyes at the notion the situation had been engineered. "Your ego never rests, does it?"

"All work and no play…"

"…makes Lisa Cuddy a sick girl and Gregory House a dull boy?" she said sweetly.

"Woman, you blithely court the danger of hate mail from my myriad of female admirers!"

Cuddy gazed down at him in challenge. "Name one."

"That blond down in Oncology…K- something… Kitty, Karen…_Katherine_, that's it."

She raised her brow mockingly. "Katherine's in love with Doctor Chase, from what I hear."

"Why that weasly- it's the Australian accent, I tell you," he shrugged. "I should try my hand at a foreign accent myself…British, perhaps…that should impress the ladies."

"I hate to rain on your parade, but it may be more the angelic good looks, blonde hair and blue eyes that Doctor Chase boasts than his accent. And it would take more than faking a British accent to put you in the running to compete!"

"I have blue eyes…" he pointed out. "Now do I stand a chance?"

"Not that many people notice, probably because they're scared to come close enough to check, in case you bite their nose off," Cuddy said dryly.

"I'm offended that you would believe me capable of such unsubtlety. My modus operandi tends more towards _gnawing_ at the unfortunate party- it prolongs the torture that way. Speaking of gnawing…" House vacated her chair in a flurry of movement. "Would you care to join me for a meal in the hospital cafeteria?"

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**A/N:** I know that one or two of the reviewers asked if I was giving Cuddy a medical problem, and I must admit, that thought never crossed my mind- her collapse was just a plot device! Since this is my first House story, I might just try and keep things simple til I have the hang of it- but the notion of having Cuddy suffering from an illness may appear in the future, when I can properly research it and all. Meanwhile, hope you enjoyed the latest chapter! Now all you have to do is review…


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

A/N: See, Melissa, told you I'd go home and finish this chapter! Thanks for helping me get back to business with this story.

**Trouble on the Horizon**

Lisa Cuddy was loath to admit it, but House had her at a distinct disadvantage. Speechless at his uncharacteristic offer, she was at a loss with how to respond. It would not be unlike him to have asked her to a meal, only to laugh in her face at her cautious acceptance- yet he could simply be elevating their unique style of mind games to a whole new level of play, which meant she had to find a way to mockingly deflect his offer if she wanted to save face.

Delighted at her predicament, House said briskly, "Well, Cuddy, it's not as though I'm propositioning you, although according to the rumor mill around here, it wouldn't be the first time…" His blue eyes flashed wickedly, knowing that references to rumors of their sexual history together irritated her no end.

"Well, House," she returned briskly, taking the offensive tack, "I'm sure you had high hopes that something like a little faint would have rewired my brain to view that indecent suggestion in a more appealing light, but I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you, my answer is still no."

"Stop pretending this isn't what you want," he stamped his cane for emphasis. "You've never been able to resist me- why else would you keep me around? You can't help yourself, it-"

Cuddy had revised her strategy. She cut him off, conceding gracefully. "You're right, House." The momentary look of shock that flitted over his face was most satisfying. It seemed to her now that perhaps consenting to sharing a meal with him would be the best tactic- what better way to torture him? Especially since he would not have seen this coming… A heavy dose of sarcasm coated her words, "Dazzle me with your sexy table manners, seduce me with your alluring dining etiquette- take me to lunch, House." A roll of her eyes emphasized the irony of her flippant remarks.

"Very well, if you absolutely must throw yourself at me like this," House recovered enough of his equanimity to dredge up the instinctive impudence that marked his nature. "It would be embarrassing for you if I said no, so I suppose I'll have to go along with this."

His heavy sigh led to her amused scoff, "Now you're acting like _I'm_ the one who orchestrated all this. _You_ asked me, just keep that in mind."

He shrugged. "I felt sorry for you. Poor Doctor Cuddy, all wrapped up in this hospital of hers, a hollow substitute for the life and family she never had. Other women are busy heeding their biological clocks and Cupid's arrow," he said sardonically, "while you work yourself into collapse over this giant gilded cage filled with other people's problems- for what, the greater good? Does it make you feel better to deal with their pain and turmoil, to provide the solution to their emergencies? Does it fill that empty place in your heart that comes from being all alone?"

House had a knack for switching tacks with the capriciousness of a feather on the breeze. His words were predictably personal and hard-hitting, Cuddy thought, of course he had no use for tact or diplomacy. Where he saw weakness, he would expose it- it was part of the blunt candour he possessed, the sharp side of his tongue that most people fell victim to, sooner or later. For all his scheming ways and devious misconduct, honesty was his weapon, one he wielded skilfully. Cuddy dredged up the fortitude that long experience with House's acerbity had cultivated in her, and stiffly replied, "As opposed to _your_ heart, which is just overflowing with love and happiness and affection for all around?" Cuddy would be damned before she would let him see how that barb had hit home.

"The difference between you and me," he said solemnly, eyeing her carefully, "is that I make suffering look good."

If he didn't mistake his guess, House thought, the lovely Doctor Cuddy had flinched at the taunt he had tossed out carelessly with the ease of long practice. Unexpected, and therefore intriguing- he was interested in things that didn't fit, and an unpredicted response to a certain stimuli was just as fascinating as a suspicious blot on an MRI to the diagnostician. It was just as if Pavlov's dogs had salivated at the rumble of thunder, despite being conditioned to the ringing of a bell- her reaction was an extraneous variable that confounded his previous understanding of the woman that signed his pay-check.

The one who now looked as though she was contemplating grabbing his cane and making him grovel on the ground while she gave him a few kicks for good measure. "You cope only because you pop pills constantly," Cuddy said with flat accusation. "You don't see me turning into a drug addict to deal with my life."

"And requiring pain medication for legitimate injury is a problem- how exactly?" he cocked his head questioningly.

"It goes beyond that- you use your damn leg as a crutch. It's an excuse for you to behave how you want, as though it gives you _carte blanche_ to flout the rules you don't respect."

"May I point out it makes me a better doctor?" House asked in the manner of one pointing out the blindingly obvious.

"It doesn't make you a better doctor, it makes you a menace," she said sharply, then cut off and sighed. "Why am I debating this with you? It's like asking a rattlesnake why it has to inject poison into its bites. At the end of the day, it doesn't erase the reality that your leg is swollen and bloated, and there's the possibility of losing the whole limb."

He looked at her meditatively. "So- friends again?" House asked winningly.

What was it about the man that refused to allow her to hate him? God knew he had given her constant provocation and barbed insults all these years, no one would blame her should she harbour murderous feelings towards the derisive doctor. Yet she made allowances for him, she overlooked his terrible bedside manner in favor of his indisputable brilliance, made cursory protests over his unsavoury methods. Cuddy had never seriously considered firing him, nor of taking the further step of revoking his licence, although she knew no patients and certainly few doctors would mourn the loss of House from the ranks of medical practitioners. Furthermore, it was a perfectly justifiable action, and no one could provide an adequate defense for him before a board of inquiry, if one were ever convened. But, Cuddy realized, she chose to stay her hand, _she_ permitted House to indulge his eccentricities. Whatever his faults, they were not the cause of her own laxity towards him.

"House, if we are friends now," she said in a considerably less hostile tone, "I hate to think of how you treat your enemies."

"I poison them," he replied deadpan. Widening his eyes in a maniacal stare and affecting a melodramatic tone, House went on, "Then I feed their liver to the dogs."

Her eyebrows drew together in amused revulsion. "And on that appetising note, are we ever going to lunch?" she challenged him.

House smirked, feeling victorious. "I thought you would never ask."

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A/N: To the readers that made it this far, thank you for not giving up on me, I know I'm terrible when it comes to updating. Hope the chapter was worth your while…


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

**Trouble on the Horizon**

"So, my dear Doctor Cuddy, what do you think of my choice?" House asked with mock solicitousness as he ushered the hospital administrator in through the door before him.

"Very nice, House," she said ironically, joining the queue. "I expected no less from you. After all, you're exactly the type of person to ask a woman out to a meal-"

"I didn't ask you out," he interrupted, scandalized at the notion. "What is this, high school? You asked me, just keep that in mind," he repeated her own words back at her.

"_You_ made the original offer, _I_ reminded you of it," Cuddy retorted. "Which does not translate into this all being my idea."

"How exactly would you describe all this?" he asked innocently, filling his tray as they moved up the line.

"As I was saying, this is you inviting me to a meal in the cafeteria of the hospital I run," she stated, unable to prevent her lips twitching in amusement, "How typical of you."

"Well, we couldn't go anywhere decent," House protested, running his eyes over her typically low-cut attire. "Not with you dressed like that. They might think you were looking for a john of yours, how embarrassing would that be?"

Only House would find it appropriate to make a joke about his boss selling her body for sex. "Well, I suppose you ought to know, being a great fan of the industry. So is that your usual company when you go out in public- do the few women unfortunate enough to accompany you tend to be hookers?"

"You have no idea what Cameron gets up to after hours, do you?" he said mysteriously, then lifted a hand in protest, "No, no, don't ask me anymore, I've betrayed her confidence as it is. But then it's so hard keeping secrets- after all, what's the point of knowing something about someone else if you can't enjoy the thrill of discussing their dirty secret behind their back?"

"I can't imagine that many people would trust you with their secrets, House," she said dryly. "So you can't be suffering too much. Besides, knowing the facts would limit you to the truth, and where would the fun be in that? I'm sure you much prefer to make up your own twisted little scenarios about people, just for the entertainment. Oh, and incidentally," Cuddy considered him with a flat stare, "I never did thank you for that rumor you started about me being a transsexual, you have no idea how it boosts my ego knowing they're gossiping about me in the women's toilets."

"Oh my," he spluttered in feigned shock. "That's something we have in common, listening to tittle-tattle in public restrooms! There is such an education to be had, you pick up the juiciest scandals. Besides, it's not just the _women's_ toilets that serves as an arena to discuss your sexual scandals- as you would know if you have made any more recent forays into the men's room since the last time we were there together…" he offered in a tone dripping with innuendo.

She shook her head despairingly, "You know, most people would just sue you and have done with it."

"I'm simply trying to fulfil your expectations- it would disappoint you if I didn't put that fifty grand to good use," he said reasonably. "After all, you wouldn't have allocated good money to fighting my legal battles if you didn't _expect_ me to rub people the wrong way. And besides, when you think about it, what would be the point of taking me to court when you'd be paying for my litigation fees?"

"I know, and I agree with you completely," she said, earning a suspicious glance from him. "So that's why I'll get a lot more satisfaction simply by doing this…" she reached the head of the lunch line and leaned forward address the café lady in a conspiratorial whisper, "_He's_ paying," she nodded at House, and with a smirk, Lisa Cuddy slipped out with her fully piled tray, leaving him to foot the bill. She made sure it was a large one, of course, just to establish he understood the value of a dollar. There was no point her writing his cheques if he didn't appreciate the good money she paid him, was there? And besides, it gratified her no end to see the anguished expression on the misanthropic doctor's face as he reluctantly handed over the money.

He rejoined her at the table outside with a sarcastic laugh, "Oh, that was clever. Very good, you got me. But you have no idea what forces you have meddled with, the other kids are going to hear about this…"

"So you run to your team when the big, bad world gets revenge on you?" she said mockingly. "Is that why you hired Foreman- for someone to act as your brawn?"

House studied her tray, pointedly redirecting their conversation, "I said to eat something, I didn't say pile on the pounds. People are going to start talking about the size of your backside again."

"I'm crushed," she said with a straight face. "My self-esteem has been obliterated and I will never be able to gaze upon myself in the mirror again-"

"You mean you can stand to now?" he said with a double-take. "Well, they do say that big is beautiful…"

Cuddy continued sweetly, "-but it doesn't detract from the fact that you just had to shell out money to pay for our meal. That's a victory I intend to savor for a while.

House sighed heavily. "All that wiliness and barbed wit wrapped up in one neat package. Too bad you were busy when the family was handing out attractiveness- if you had only lucked out in the gene pool, we could have been perfect together…" She raised a brow, not caring less about what House thought of her appearance. With a shrug, he upped that ante, raising his voice deliberately as he said, "Oh, wait, we tried that once before and it didn't work. All your insecurity and neediness could have been a turn-on, but I wanted someone just a little less clingy and a bit more adventurous in bed-"

"House!" she seethed. At his look of innocent perplexity, she appeased her impulsive need for childish revenge and stretched her leg out under the table, toeing his cane with the tip of her foot, sending it crashing to the floor.

"Oh, come on, now that is rough. Don't you feel terrible for picking on a cripple?" he adopted a wounded expression.

"Let me think about that" -she frowned in concentration- "Do you feel the slightest guilt over all the people you've insulted or harassed all these years? Or just from today, for the panic and fear you caused a mother to feel when her son disappeared during a _standard_ consultation and I was unable to assure her that I could locate him within the hour, although I was reasonably sure he was safe with you?"

"All right, you don't need to be so preachy about it. All you had to do was say 'no'. I've never felt the least bit of remorse over my behaviour," he said. "Life's too short to put up with idiots."

She rolled her eyes and refused to debate that topic with him. Cuddy had fought more than her fair share of battles over his attitude during his tenure at her hospital, and she was not going to engage in another one during this odd meal they were sharing.

"Honestly, House, the hospital cafeteria," she shook her head. "People know us here. Or was that the point, were you trying to stir up gossip again?"

"No," he denied it at once, then gave her an impish grin. "That was a bonus. My logic was that as the dean of this grand institution, surely you would wield the kind of clout that would entitle us to a free meal or something. Of course," he looked at down at their meal sourly, "that was hardly the case."

"You are so cheap, House," she said accusingly. "I'm glad one of your devious tricks backfired on you- serves you right for imagining you could get a freebie out of a meal with me. If you're going to be continually comparing me to hookers-"

"I would never make that comparison," he murmured. "Your technique is definitely not on par with theirs."

She ignored that snide remark. "- and eyeballing the area in closest proximity to my neckline, you can certainly pay up for the pleasure of the view. No self-respecting woman should be expected to endure your company without some form of compensation. A meal doesn't come close to repaying everything you owe me, but it's a start."

"To a beautiful friendship?" he asked drolly.

"But that would be inappropriate. I'm your boss, you're my subordinate…things could get messy," she said lightly.

"All the more reason to pursue it," he reasoned. "You can't put a price on the illicit and immoral things worth having in life."

"Determining worthiness is one person's judgment call, though. Who's to say something is really worth anything at all?"

"Doctor Cuddy, you wound me," he exclaimed dramatically. "Is it possible that you are one of the few women immune to the appeal of a relationship with me? I'll have you know that women have been throwing themselves at my feet for decades now- and you dare to imply I would not be worth anything?"

"I don't doubt you _are_ worth something, just whether it's worth enduring. All I have to do is ask Stacy what your relationship brought her. A whole lot of aggravation, crushing sarcasm and…" she trailed off at the look on his face. At the mention of his ex-partner's name, the look of gleeful delight that House had been taking from their exchange had faded away and a harder, bleaker expression replaced it.

"Well, that was low," he said in a flat tone. "Bring up the old girlfriend in order to score some points off me?"

"House," she tried a placating tone, but he was having none of it.

"And they call _me_ a heartless bastard. Doctor Cuddy," House grabbed his cane and stood up, "Congratulations on surpassing me in a whole new standard of persecution. You've outdone me this time."

"Damn it, House," she said sharply, standing up as well.

"If you'll excuse me," he said with pointed emphasis. "I'm sure I have something important to get back to right about now."

Ignoring the fascinated gazes she was sure were being directed towards their quarrel, Cuddy stalked after the figure limping away. It wasn't too hard to catch up with him, and she raised her voice as she approached, "House! What on earth has gotten into you?" she grabbed his shoulder and jerked him to a halt, "I didn't mean anything-" Cuddy stopped right there as she caught a glimpse of his expression, and then hissed something unrepeatable under her breath.

House was grinning at her. "My dear doctor," he said smugly. "I always knew you cared about me more than you were inclined to admit."

"I do not," she emphatically refuted his claim. "To know you is to loathe you. It's an obligatory practice around here, one which you do your best to reinforce. And just to prove it, you're doing an extra five clinic hours this week." It was unethical, she knew, to punish a person with additional work just because she was furious with them- but damn it, nothing House ever did was ethical, and if she wanted to win with him, she had to revert to terms he understood. Besides, watching him squirm had just become her new favourite past time, something she intended to indulge in with regularity.

Of course, he did not look anxious at all, a sanguine look of supreme satisfaction persisting on his face. "Whatever you say, Doctor Cuddy," House assured her.

"I see. Just so you know I know," she said through clenched teeth, "No more passing various members of your team off as yourself- you do your own hours, understood?"

"Who squealed?" he demanded. "It was Chase, wasn't it?"

"My own detective work," she said smugly. "I knew it wasn't at all possible for you to be nice to patients. When I heard that the misanthrope we're all painfully familiar with had apparently won _herself_ a fan base amongst the patients, I figured something was up."

"Cameron," he groaned. "She needs to learn to withhold herself from patients, or they'll bleed her dry. I should've just stuck with Foreman- at least he succeeded in offending a patient, unintentional as it was, because that sure aided the pretence. You didn't have a clue that it was _him_ rather than me responsible for insulting that idiotic woman who was so sure she had cancer she wasted her time and his on useless tests."

"And you're not going to have a chance to try deceiving me again," a grim smile appeared on Cuddy's face. "If I hear about anything like this again, I will personally oversee the removal of all the tv sets in this hospital." The look that appeared on his face then was immensely rewarding.

"Wilson is so dead," he vowed. Was there _no one_ who would help keep his underhand activities under Cuddy's radar? It defied belief that two of his sneaky tactics could be revealed and held against him in this manner.

"As you pointed out to him on one occasion, it doesn't make sense for coma patients to have access to television when they're in no state to be exercising that privilege- although you certainly have been busy on their behalf. Do the clinic hours _yourself_, House, or you'll find life very dull without your favourite soap to entertain you."

He studied her thoughtfully, noting the blaze of determination in her smoky blue eyes. Something had changed in her, and he wasn't at all pleased about it. But he would have to appear to accept it for now, til he found new ways to circumvent her new dictates- and not a trace of guilt afflicted him as he nodded in acquiescence.

"Good," she said decisively. Cuddy noticed the calculating gleam in his eyes, knew that this was only a temporary shift in the status quo and that she would have some work ahead of her to maintain her authority. But it had been a long time coming, and she intended on relishing it now that she had attained this victory.

"Cuddy," he stopped her as she turned to walk away. She paused, back to him, but did not face him. "You're paying next time," House told her.

_Next time?_ she wondered, then mentally shrugged. The rules had changed…it wouldn't hurt to re-evaluate some other things as well. "We'll see about that," she said, looking over her shoulder with a challenging grin. "You still haven't proved what you're worth to me yet."

"Clinic hours in exchange for your time," he said winningly, holding out a hand to her.

Pursing her lips as she considered this startling proposition of his, Cuddy finally assented and shook his hand.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** 'House' is not mine, I just love to borrow without permission.

**Trouble on the Horizon**

House supposed he was lucky to have such a firm grasp on his sense of superiority. After all, ignorance and stupidity were catching, and if he were not careful, his IQ would take some severe battering, what with the recent standard of patients he was forced to assess. For instance, Elise Johnson- female, 18 years old. He studied her with resignation, noting the sulky curve of her lips which gave away her attitude of long-suffering disdain with the world, and wondered if the impenetrable fringe of artistically dishevelled hair that hid her eyes from sight was designed to protect her royal haughtiness from viewing the ordinary denizens of everyday life or to indicate her higher calling to a pursuit of the air of mystery. In any case, other than a deep progression into the self-absorbed condition of youth, she was most likely also suffering the typical teenage angst over various imagined and real physical imperfections. From what he could see of the rest of her face, the imperfections were blindingly obvious.

He broke the bad news to her. "You have pimples."

The insufferable fussy mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I don't like to use that word," she chided him gently, brown eyes earnest. "It's insensitive, in my opinion."

House stared at her. "Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know inflamed pustules had feelings. My mistake. If you feel you're more qualified to treat your daughter, by all means, I can just quietly withdraw and leave you to do the examination…" He made as though to move, but was not lucky enough to escape just yet.

"Of course not, you're the doctor, but my daughter is rather sensitive to criticism and that word doesn't help matters. There's so much pressure in her peer group about appearances, and having to look a certain way, it just causes a great deal of psychological damage when Elise can't fit in because she has the misfortune to look different."

The girl managed to look vulnerable and heroic at the same time, he noticed. "I see," House thought for a moment. "Does the term 'acne' sound better?" he asked, ignoring the gasp of disapproval. "Listen, Elaine-"

"Elise," she spoke up for the first time, swiping at the dark hair obscuring her eyes in order to glare at him. The martyr-like posturing had noticeably disappeared.

"Whatever. Do you know what causes pimples?"

She shrugged. "Something to do with excessive production of oil, at least, that's what our Health teacher told us. And sebaceous glands or whatever."

"She would be reasonably accurate, which is all you can really expect. I'm glad teachers are getting through to _some_ kids, at least you seem to be paying attention in class. Eat healthy, drink lots of water and wash your face regularly. Basic simple stuff I'm sure your Health teacher mentioned, but maybe you didn't think she was _qualified_ to advise you on that course of action." House looked at the mother, who looked undecided on whether or not he was being impertinent, then narrowed his eyes for good measure, just to give her something to ponder late at night.

"Can't you just give me some pills for it?" Elise asked bluntly.

House let out a howl of loud, uproarious laughter, clutching his stomach for effect, while the mother and daughter exchanged slightly unnerved expressions. "Pills, she says," he repeated to the mother in a genial tone. "Teenagers these days, always looking for pills to solve a problem. It's all about getting instant gratification, the quick fix to a predicament. Next thing you know Elise here will be asking for breast implants to fit into those skimpy bikinis all the better. Not that I have anything against people augmenting their appearance, just the natural envy that cosmetic surgeons make a hell of a living out of it. Did you know that 6.9 million cosmetic procedures were performed here in 2002? That's according to the American Society for Aesthetic Plastic Surgery, which calculated it was a 203 percent increase since the 90's. What do you think the statistics are going to be like today? Soon we're going to be living in a mechanized society with an identical, homogenous population. Is that really what you want to be part of?"

"Look, Doctor, I don't care about that, okay? Spare me the sermon. I've thought about surgery, to be honest, but mom won't let me til I have a part-time job and can afford to pay for it myself," she cast a disparaging glance at her mother before returning her candid gaze to House and resuming her brusque speech. "Right now, all I know is that all the other girls have this clear flawless skin, and no matter how many different products I try, all those cleansers and toners and 24 hour anti-spot blemish reducers or whatever, none of them work for me. So I just want pills from you. Anything that'll help clear up my skin. Do you think you can prescribe me something?"

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he said pointedly, "I suppose so."

"_Thank_ you," Elise returned, sounding anything but grateful, more like she had more important things to do with her time and would appreciate him wasting less of it.

House was fairly thick-skinned, however, and was unperturbed. "I suppose you may as well join this generation's pill-popping, teen addict demographic." He pulled out his ever-present Vicodin and swallowed a couple. "Who knows, you might be lucky enough to get to my age and retain your pill-popping habit. That's provided the surgery goes well, of course. It's funny how you never hear about the severe disfigurement and even the occasional fatalities related to cosmetic surgery." He snickered as he bent to write out a script for the girl, continuing, "You think you're struggling to hold your head up now among your peers with a few spots on your face, imagine how hard it would be when you have cavities in your nose or you're paralysed into a permanent helpless, drooling grimace? Can't imagine your popularity would soar with that image." He ripped off the sheet and handed it to the mother. "There you go. Doxycycline Monohydrate tablets."

"What exactly does Doxycycline do to the system?" Mrs Johnson asked.

"It's an antibiotic from the class of medicines known as tetracyclines, which work by killing or stopping the growth of bacteria that make acne worse," he reeled off, turning his attention back to the girl. "It won't scar you for life, Elise, but you will have to rethink some lifestyle habits. Cut down on the junk- McDonald's will probably miss your fervent patronage, but they wreak havoc with your figure along with your skin. Isn't minding your weight also a focus of peer pressure? And I'd definitely advise against those Krispy Kreme's. In fact, just stick to nibbling lettuce and carrots here and there, you can't go wrong with the rabbit food diet."

Elise, ignoring him rather successfully to this point, had taken the script and was frowning as she read it. "Doxycycline…50mg?" she looked up at House with accusation. "That's not a lot, is it? I mean, I have a friend taking antibiotics, and they're like, a million mg or something."

"If that's the strength of the medication your friend requires, you might find it wise to make a new one- it's doubtful she'll survive much longer," House said wryly. "And if you want an increase in dosage, you do realize there will be side-effects?"

"Side effects?" Mrs Johnson repeated with concern.

"Mom…" Elise hissed warningly. "I don't _care_…"

"I appreciate that, honey, but I would like my one and only daughter to remain with me a good many years yet," she ignored her daughter's pained expression and continued, "What sort of side effects are we talking about?"

"Sunlight induced dermatitis, skin rashes or tooth or nail discoloration," House said carelessly, "Nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, abdominal pain- and how highly do you treasure your liver, by the way?"

"Why? Can a person live without their liver?" Elise retorted.

"Let's just say I want to know what to tell the surgeons to do in case of emergency. I'm positive that the donor list would be more than happy to receive your organs. A heart transplant patient wouldn't look twice at your pimples if it meant you gave them the gift of life. Just think, you could accomplish all that and not even suffer stretch marks."

Realizing that House was mocking them, Mrs Johnson got to her feet with wounded dignity. "You can be sure I'll speak to your boss about this."

"Feel free, in fact, I encourage you to do so," House said. "We have a long-standing arrangement that for every quota of patients I offend, she gets to punish me. I have been a rather bad boy lately. Ooh, maybe she'll bring out the rhinestone studded whip again. Cuddy's very exotic in her tastes, you know."

The expression on Mrs Johnson's face wavered between well-bred distaste and reluctant curiosity. Elise shook back her hair, enough to peer at House with one inquisitive eye. The other was no doubt still caught in a vicious cycle of self-review and tedious assessment of her deficiencies.

"You won't be seeing me again," Mrs Johnson settled for distaste, her tone defiant.

"I hope not," House said with feeling. "Do you expect me to care? Not after the effort I went to for the precise purpose of alienating you. Give your daughter the pills, and go bother her teachers instead. Make sure to ask about her sudden attachment to one of the boys in the class, probably a loud-mouthed smart ass with a tendency to disrupt lessons."

"What are you talking about?" the mother asked, perturbed.

"Mom, come on, let's go," Elise dragged her in the direction of the exit. "He's obviously insane, let's not waste our time."

"I want to know what he meant by that!" she insisted.

"Your daughter would have been suffering from pimples for some time now, and yet she suddenly decides all of a sudden to do something to help her image? Any group of self-respecting mean girls hell-bent on homogeneity would have ostracised her from their ranks a long time ago. Obviously she's trying to alter herself now to appeal to a boy. It's well known that misguided kids like to enter relationships presenting themselves in the most idealistic aspect possible. One of the reasons why they never last, it's all based on a lie. Trust me, Elsie-"

"Would you just stop talking?" she demanded. "And it's _Elise_, you jerk!"

"If he doesn't appreciate you the way you are now, he'll never respect you. Dump his ass and find yourself a nerdy chess-playing sci-fi geek. Someone who would actually revere the ground you walk on. True you'd have to put up with endless recitations of passages from 'Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy' and lectures on the subtle distinctions between the various cash cows from the Star Trek franchise, but it's a small price to pay."

Elise finally succeeded in pulling her mother out of the room, and the door slammed behind them with a definite huff. House relaxed, a smirk creeping across his face. He had upped the ante on his measures for driving off patients; it was a technicality that appealed to him- he may have promised Cuddy the clinic hours, but she never said anything about his attitude in fulfilling them. If he successfully bullied and insulted his way through the waiting list, he would have just as much free time as before, along with her promise to endure his presence out of official hours. Before, he had reluctantly tolerated patients, and ignored them as much as possible. House was a naturally abrasive person, but that was nothing compared to what he was capable of when his full concentration was poised on that singular task. By devoting his attention to alienating them, he could more quickly press the issue of her promise. With all the excitement of this delicious new twist to their game, he could just wriggle with glee.

He took his own sweet time before venturing out to the desk to ensnare the next hapless victim. Catching sight of Cuddy conveniently nearby, House nodded his head in a calculatedly pleasant manner, and made sure to adjust the collar of the lab coat all doctors were supposed to wear- a rule which he had made a practice to ignore, until now, when he drew attention to his unexpected conformity. At her flicker of confusion and suspicion, House felt a sense of triumph- round one to him. He masked it an expression of pompous self-importance and collected the next patient without protest, feeling her eyes burning into his head as he innocently limped off.

**A/N:** I decided it was about time House did some clinic duty in this story of mine. I'm not a doctor, so I didn't want to handle actual diagnoses of mysterious illnesses!


End file.
